


Hazard

by brooklyn09



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklyn09/pseuds/brooklyn09
Summary: Greg runs into trouble on the job. Mycroft is not happy.





	1. Chapter 1

The work day started out like any other. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and his sergeant Sally Donovan were following up on leads on a case involving the stabbing death of a 25 year old woman. It appeared as if she had been an unlucky victim of opportunity, being ambushed at the entrance of an alleyway as she was walking home from work. An anonymous tipster had called to say a known petty criminal had been in the vicinity where the woman's body had been found around the estimated time of the murder, and could be a potential witness, if not the actual suspect. This individual was known to Scotland Yard. He had a lengthy criminal history, but all of his crimes had been non violent - theft, drug offenses, solicitation. He also had a history of being a snitch when it suited him, so he was well versed in dealing with the police. It was unlikely he was their suspect, but as he was a person of interest in the recent theft of tools from a local automotive repair shop, Greg thought maybe they could use that leverage to get him to cooperate if he had been a witness to, or had any information about this more serious crime. 

Even though the alleged thief did not have a history of violent crimes, Greg had been a copper long enough to know you never took unnecessary risks, which is why two constables had accompanied him and Sally to the suspect's apartment. Even if he wasn't involved in the murder, his M.O. fit the recent theft. If he thought he could be facing potential incarceration, he could be unpredictable and do something desperate. 

Sally knocked firmly on the door. They heard rustling inside the apartment, the sounds of footsteps coming towards the door, a pause as that person likely took a look through the peephole, then the sound of someone swearing a muffled "fuck". After a beat they heard the chain being slid out of the latch on the door. Jasper Evans stood looking at them, eyes bloodshot, hair disheveled and unkempt, clothes wrinkled and stained. 

Both Sally and Greg took out their credentials, Sally identifying themselves and asking for permission to enter the apartment. Jasper unsteadily stepped aside allowing them access. Greg motioned for the constables to wait outside. 

Greg observed Jasper, who was obviously coming down off a high. Greg took a cursory glance around the apartment, but couldn't see any drug paraphernalia from where he was standing. He began to have doubts on how helpful Jasper would be in his current condition. He also didn't see any weapons, which was a good thing.

Greg deferred to Sally and allowed her to ask the questions. She was his trusted sergeant, and whenever possible, he would let her take the lead, as one day she would likely hold his position.

Sally told Jasper the reason for their visit and began questioning Jasper about his whereabouts on the night of the murder. Things started off benign enough. Jasper claimed he didn't even know there had been a murder, and denied being in the area when the murder occurred. Greg noted Jasper was having a hard time keeping still, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, and moving from foot to foot. A thin film of sweat was also breaking out along his hairline.

Greg was afraid they weren't going to have Jasper's attention or cooperation for much longer, so he stepped forward to take control of the conversation, using his seasoned skill at interviewing to try to put Jasper at ease in the hopes he would open up. Greg told Jasper he was a person of interest in the theft from the garage, told him he knew he had probably stolen the tools to sell for drug money to feed his habit, and if he had any information about the murder, maybe the theft charge could be dropped, and they could see about getting him into a drug treatment program. 

Jasper seemed to consider this for a moment, then unexpectedly bolted towards the door of the apartment. Greg gave a quick inward sigh, cursing why things could never be easy, and ran after Jasper. He and Sally caught him before he made it out the door and attempted to restrain and cuff him. Although he was slight in stature, Jasper was stronger than he looked, and he wrestled with the both of them, trying desperately to get free. As Jasper was trying to pull loose, his momentum dragged Greg and Sally out through the open door into the hallway of the apartment building. Greg lost his footing and the next thing he knew, he saw the handrail that ran midway up the hallway wall coming towards his face at a high rate of speed. He tried to put his hands out to break his fall, but his arms were tangled up with the struggling Jasper. Greg slammed into the wall and handrail head and face first, snapping his head and neck back and knocking him gracelessly to the floor. He laid motionless in stunned silence, wondering what in the hell had just happened. He heard Sally and the constables subduing Jasper nearby, but was too disconnected to really focus on it. He didn't dare move. He tried to take stock of where he might be hurt, but was disoriented and instead just tried to focus on calming his breathing. Mycroft was going to be so pissed. They routinely worried about each other considering their occupations, but Greg had always downplayed the risks, as most of his job consisted of investigation and paperwork. He was going to have a hard time explaining this.

Time seemed to stand still, and Greg questioned whether he had faded out for a moment, when he heard Sally calling his name, and felt her gently shaking his shoulder. She reassured him he would be ok, told him not to move, and said an ambulance was on the way. He slowly began to move his limbs, first his left foot, then his right, then his right hand and his left. Relief flooded over him as he realized he wasn't paralyzed. The only thing that really hurt was his head. He attempted to get his arms underneath him to push himself up to a sitting position. He really didn't want to lay face down on this filthy, disgusting, well worn floor any longer than he had to. Sally immediately began to protest and yelled at him not to move, but he ignored her and slowly got himself into a seated position with his back to the wall. He cautiously turned his head and saw the constables leading a cuffed Jasper away down the hall.

He turned to look at Sally who let a startled gasp escape from her lips. 

"That bad?" asked Greg. 

"It's not good" replied Sally , taking in the ugly, raw scrape on Greg's forehead where his head made contact with the rough wall, and his quickly bruising cheek which hit the handrail. Greg reached up to touch the bruise and grimaced at the tenderness he found there. He also felt the rapidly growing bump on his forehead underneath the scrape.

They both turned when they heard the ambulance attendants making their way down the hall towards them with a stretcher. 

"Oh hell no!" exclaimed Greg. "I do not need to be carted out of here like some invalid. I am perfectly capable of walking out of here under my own power". 

"No way, sir. Your husband would have my head if I let anything further happen to you. As it is now, he'll probably see to it I'm demoted down to parking attendant before the end of the week. Speaking of which, do you want me to call him now, or wait until you get to the hospital?"

Greg sighed and said "Might as well get it over with now, he'll be upset either way. Please reassure him though I am fine. It's just a little bump to the head. A quick check over at the hospital and I'll be as good as new".

"Yeah, right sir" said Sally unconvincingly, eyeing the lump prominently featured on Greg's head. 

The attendants loaded Greg onto the stretcher and into the waiting ambulance and as they drove away, Sally turned to make the call she was dreading.

To be continued......


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this took so long to update. One thing I've learned about myself - I'm much more comfortable writing one shots than chapter fics. Unless I complete the whole thing before I begin posting it! So this is the conclusion. Enjoy!

Mycroft Holmes was finishing up the days work in his office at Whitehall. It was late Friday afternoon, and he had the weekend off, barring any crises. It had been a long week and he was looking forward to just relaxing at home tonight with Gregory. They could order some takeout, start a fire in the fireplace, and curl up on the couch to watch an old movie from their collection. 

As he was gathering his papers for his briefcase, his phone trilled, the number displayed indicating an incoming call from Sally Donovan. Mycroft answered with a bit of trepidation. Why would Gregory's sergeant be calling him, and not the man himself? 

"Sgt. Donovan? What can I do for you?"

"Sir, there's been an incident. The boss is fine, but......"

"What happened?"

"He was involved in a scuffle with a witness in a case we're working on. He said he was fine and tried to beg off medical care, but I convinced him to at least go and get checked out. Looks to be only a few scrapes and bruises but it would be best to have a professional decide that."

"I see. Thank you for the call Sergeant. I will head out straightaway to see him".

"OK sir, please give him my best, tell him not to worry, I'll handle the case from here."

Mycroft clicked off the call and summoned his assistant Anthea into his office.

"Anthea, I will be leaving now, it seems Gregory has gotten himself into a spot of bother at work. Please take any messages in my absence, I know I can rely on you to handle them as you see fit. And please summon a car to take me to hospital."

"Right away sir, I hope the Inspector is all right". 

"I'm sure it is nothing". Mycroft tried to smile reassuringly, but knew his assistant could hear the concern in his voice.

*********

As he was driven to hospital, Mycroft tried not to think the worst. Sergeant Donovan had told him she thought Gregory would be fine. But why didn't Gregory call to reassure him himself? He hated that Gregory's job was so unpredictable and inherently dangerous. But the same could be said for his job, he guessed. Greg was devoted to his work, and he did it well. It took a special kind of person to deal with some of the worst people and situations society had to offer. Gregory liked to help people, and it filled Mycroft with a sense of pride to hear others speak of Gregory's accomplishments. He was well respected and liked by his colleagues and community members.

The car pulled up to the emergency entrance and Mycroft got out on shaky legs. He steeled himself and made his way inside to the information desk.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade? I believe he was brought here a short time ago by ambulance. I'm his husband, Mycroft Holmes."

The nurse typed into her computer. "Ah yes, Mr. Lestrade is in Room 4. He said to be expecting you. You can go right down that hall and to the left," as she pointed the way. 

Mycroft followed her directions and entered Room 4. Greg was sitting back on an exam bed with his eyes closed. He was still wearing his clothes from work, now soiled and crumpled from the tussle. There was dried blood crusted to his forehead and a darkening bruise on his cheek.

Mycroft sat quietly in the chair next to the bed so as not to disturb Greg in case he was sleeping. After a few minutes of observation though, he realized this was not the case.

"I know you're awake, my dear. I can always tell when you're faking to avoid an argument."

Greg cracked open the eye that wasn't in the process of swelling shut and looked at his husband. "Ahh, busted." Greg shifted and winced, sitting up a little straighter in the bed. 

Taking Greg's hand in his, Mycroft asked, "Are you all right? I was worried when Sgt. Donovan called."

"I'm fine. It was stupid really. He just caught me off guard, got my feet tangled with his. Looks worse than it feels."

"Well, that's reassuring, because it looks pretty bad, " Mycroft chastised. 

Greg fiddled with the blankets with his free hand. "Go ahead, say it. I know you want to."

Mycroft took a few minutes to gather his thoughts. He didn't want fear to override his emotions and say something harsh that he'd regret. He would never ask Gregory to quit a job he loved without being willing to do the same. 

"The only thing I want to say is I'm glad you're ok. I admit I was scared, but I know you take your own safety, and that of your officers very seriously. Accidents happen. I'll just be thinking positive thoughts that they happen less." Mycroft picked up the hand he was holding, kissing Greg's fingers.

"Wow," said Greg, chuckling. " Where's my husband Mycroft Holmes and what did you do to him?"

Mycroft smiled and leaned over to kiss his husband on the cheek.

Soon, the doctor came in, and sent Greg for a CT scan to check for any brain contusions or facial fractures. Fortunately none were found, and Greg was discharged into Mycroft's care with instructions to rest for a few days. 

The chauffeured drive home was quiet. It was now dark outside, with rain gently falling, tracking in rivulets down the windows. Greg and Mycroft sat next to one another, holding hands.

"I'm sorry, love" said Greg, facing his husband.

"For what? Getting hurt? Not your fault. An unfortunate mishap is all."

"But I don't want to cause you to worry about me. You have enough daily pressure without having to wonder what your trouble magnet of a husband is getting into."

Turning to Greg, Mycroft said, "Let me ask you something."

"Mm hmm," Greg replied. 

"Do you worry about me sometimes?"

"Of course."

"Would you ask or expect me to leave my job, just to assuage your worry? A job I am devoted to, just as you are to yours?"

"Well, no. But it's different. What you do is important. Saving the world and all."

"Nonsense, Gregory Holmes-Lestrade! Your job is just as important, even moreso. You touch people's lives, every day. Find them justice. Aid the hurt and broken. Don't you ever belittle your importance in this world for one second. I won't stand for it!" 

They stared at each other a moment, Mycroft breathing heavily, Greg shocked into quiet. 

"Ok," said Greg softly. Reaching over to cup Mycroft's cheek, Greg leaned in to give him a lingering kiss. "I love you."

"I love you as well. When we get home, I propose we go straight to bed and put this dreadful day to rest. I, for one, have had enough excitement to last a week." 

"Just a week?" Greg asked. 

"Maybe we need to get a second opinion about your concussion. You do remember who my brother is, correct? I rarely have a few days of peace at a time with him."

"Point taken" grinned Greg. 

They settled back into the plush seats, still hand in hand, thanking the powers that be that they both survived another day the best way they knew how - together.


End file.
